Snake Charmer
by Eve B Hart
Summary: While assisting in her father's crusade for pureblood domination, the heart of Lucius Malfoy's girlfriend warms to a different Slytherin. Set during the Marauders' Era. please r/r
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter series belong to the highly talented J.K. Rowling. All the rest belong to me.

Chapter One

            Pythia Winters woke up Monday morning on the left side of Lucius Malfoy's bed. The boys' sixth year dormitory was empty save the two of them, and the corridor outside the room was quiet, as usual. With a glance at the grandfather clock against the opposite wall, Pythia gathered that Lucius wouldn't take too kindly to being woken yet. Yawning, she pulled herself upright and grasped for her nightshirt on the floor.

            The fourth year girls' dorm was empty, as well, when Pythia entered. The bathroom mirror was still fogged from the steam of the showers and water droplets still fell from the faucets with a hollow sound as they hit the marble. After her shower, she stood in front of the mirror before dressing, appraising her appearance.

            Dark brunette hair hung around her shoulders and back in thick, damp waves. Her skin was pink from the hot water, but her face was already regaining the fair complexion it usually bore. Soft, hardly noticeable freckles had begun to show across her cheeks and nose, as they usually did when the sun grew brighter toward the middle of spring. Brown eyes peered out from beneath black lashes clumped together by the water, the right one underlined with a deep purple bruise.

            Pythia raised a hand and touched the black eye, wincing as she realized that the contusion sat right on the bone of the eye socket. Sighing, she left to dress in her school robes and stuffed her homework into her book bag. With a quick drying charm, she ran a brush through the tangles in her hair and made her way upstairs to the Great Hall.

            Everyone was gathered in the usual spot at the back of the Slytherin table – Narcissa and Bellatrix Black, Severus Snape, Evan Rosier, Nero Wilkes, Rudolphus Lestrange, and Janus Avery. Narcissa and Bellatrix were in a deep conversation with Rudolphus about the upcoming O.W.L.s, while Evan, Nero, and Janus discussed Quidditch. Severus was engrossed in a thick book, a deep frown settled between his eyebrows. The Hall was filled with people eating and talking, but since it was only eight-fifteen, there were several people missing from each house

            Pythia made her way down the aisle, lifting the heels of her boots so they wouldn't make so much noise. She raised a finger to her lips when Janus opened his mouth to say "hello," and the two conversations ceased. Trying to keep from chuckling, she bent her head down so her mouth was right behind Severus's ear. She held her breath and waited to see if he knew that she was there. When she knew he didn't, she opened her mouth.

            "Whatcha reading?"

            Severus started with a slight gasp. Satisfied with herself, Pythia slid into the seat between him and Evan. He gave an exasperated sigh. "Thia." The one word held a menace that would have made anyone else from any other House apprehensive. But no one in their gang of Slytherins feared Severus's wrath.

            Pythia smiled sweetly, reaching for the fruit. "I didn't mean anything by it, Severus. You can go back to your book."

            Scowling at her, he returned to the page he was on, his brow knitting again.

            Narcissa glanced at Pythia. "Thia, what happened to your eye?"

            Pythia broke out in a grin and rolled her eyes. "I went looking in the library for a book yesterday evening, for my homework. Found it on the top shelf. When I tried to get it, it fell and hit me in the face. Smart, huh?"

            Narcissa rolled her eyes and Bellatrix sniggered. "Oh yeah," Nero replied, "real smart."

            "Is Prince Lucius sleeping in again?" Janus inquired sarcastically.

            "When has Malfoy _ever_ come down early?" Bellatrix pointed out, stuffing a forkful of egg into her mouth.

            "Yeah, Lucius won't be down for another fifteen or twenty minutes," Pythia agreed. As an afterthought, she added, "He needs his beauty rest."

            Pythia filled her plate with eggs, toast, and fruit. She was halfway through breakfast when Evan nudged her with his elbow. When she looked up, he nodded at the doorway of the Hall. "Well, well." The words were soft and almost anticipatory. "Severus." Severus looked up at her, an eyebrow raised to show his irritation. "Look who it is," she said softly, a smirk flickering on her face.

            His eyes searched the Hall and found the four boys on their way to the Gryffindor table. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Hatred glowed cold in Severus's eyes. There was not possibly anyone he hated more than James Potter. "What's your point?" he snapped, and went back to the book.

            Pythia rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "If you don't know, I'm not gonna tell you."

            "Now _there's_ a line that's overused by females," a cold voice drawled from behind her. Evan moved to the other side of the table so Lucius could sit down beside Pythia. Rudolphus snickered.

            "That's sexist," Bellatrix snapped.

            Pythia pulled out a scrap of parchment and scribbled on it "that's Lucius" and slid it over to Bellatrix, who read it and snickered. Lucius frowned at the two of them before resting his intense gaze on Pythia. "Something funny, Thia?"

            Pythia just let a slow smile curl on her lips. "Not really," she answered truthfully.

            Lucius's eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned back to the rest of them. "So," he said, and everyone ended what they were doing to hear what he had to say, even Severus. He cracked his knuckles loudly and withdrew nine strips of parchment from his robes, holding them up. "Who's gonna be Victim of the Week?"


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

            Victims of the Week, also called Vows to deceive the teachers, were chosen every Monday morning. Everyone put in for who they thought the Vow should be, then a name was drawn. Certain names were put in each week, since everyone seemed to have a vendetta against somebody. Normally, Pythia threw in for Lily Evans – she just couldn't stand the contemptible Mudblood – but today she decided to take pity on Severus, who seemed more distant than usual, and scrawled "James Potter" on her paper.

            "_Wingardium Leviosa_," chanted Lucius with a swish and flick of his wand, and the pieces of parchment fluttered into the air. "Bella, draw one."

            Bellatrix closed her eyes and grasped for one of the slips. "Lily Evans," she read.

            Pythia frowned. "Congratulations," Lucius said to her.

            "I didn't put in for Evans," she replied bemusedly.

            "Well, then who did?"

            "Don't look at me," Evan said. "I'm gunning for Arietta Stevens."

            "Aw, she turned you down again?" Rudolphus said smartly, earning him a scowl from Evan.

            Narcissa laughed, blue eyes sparkling. "Don't worry, Evan. You'll get her one of these days."

            "Right," he answered darkly.

            No one had written "Lily Evans" on his or her paper, which greatly bothered Pythia. It was too odd. How had- "Severus, get your nose out of that book and talk to us," Lucius ordered, half affectionately. "Who are you gunning for this week?"

            Severus looked up from the book again irritably. "The Vow I threw in for was Lily Evans."

            Pythia had to laugh. Funny, it was the one time that Severus's Vow had been chosen and it wasn't the person that he hated most. "Why'd you want her?" Bellatrix asked, glancing at her watch.

            Severus opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Pythia held up a hand to stop him. He'd put in for Evans for the same reason that she'd put in for Potter. It probably would have been sweet, had the purpose of the drawing not been to hone in and torture that particular person for the entire week.

            Owls swooped in from the rafters in a flurry of feathers, carrying letters and parcels from home. Everyone but Pythia was visited by the family owl, though Severus put his letter from home to a candle flame and watched it burn.

            "Still mad at your mum, then?" Bellatrix inquired. With a scowl, Severus snapped his book shut. "I guess that's a 'yes.'"

            Lucius was watching Severus intensely, discerning his attitude. He turned to Pythia. "Thia, I'm going to walk Severus to Potions this morning. I'll catch up with you after class."

            Severus met Lucius's gaze defiantly. He obviously didn't want to have Lucius walk him to class, but he didn't say anything. Everyone knew that when Lucius Malfoy told you to do something, you didn't refuse.

            Pythia yawned, abandoning her History of Magic notes to doodle in the margins of her parchment. She could always get Narcissa's notes later. Narcissa was twirling a lock of blonde hair between her thumb and forefinger, listening to Professor Binns' lecture fixedly. As soon as she realized that Pythia wasn't concentrating anymore, she gave her a sharp jab in the ribs. Pythia glared at her, but continued sketching runic symbols and snakes on her paper.

            "I'm not lending you my notes if you don't even make an effort," Narcissa hissed.

            Pythia rolled her eyes – spoken truly like the perfect student she was. As if it mattered. Pythia didn't need to know the history of magic, just how to perform it, and that wouldn't be a problem with her father so willing a mentor.

            "So, what's your plan for Evans?" Narcissa inquired, not quite a whisper, since Binns was so absorbed in his own lesson to hear them.

            Pythia felt excitement well up in her chest. Her voice was enthusiastic, but controlled. She sounded so tickled with her idea. "I'm going to turn her into a centipede. Then I'm going to trip her and break all her legs."

            Narcissa couldn't suppress a chuckle. Leave it to Pythia to come up with something so awful. Lucius would approve. She shook her head and laughed again.

            "Miss Branch?" Narcissa looked up expectantly. Binns never could get a name right. "Something funny?"

            Narcissa opened her mouth, but Pythia cut her off. "That was me, Professor. I was remembering a joke. Sorry."

            Binns studied her for a moment. "Five points from Slytherin, Miss Waters." With another contemplative glance, he resumed his lecture.

            When class was over, the two walked out of the room with the others. "Thanks," Narcissa said, pushing the strap of her book bag up over her shoulder. Pythia shrugged; she'd had to do it – Narcissa wouldn't be able to get over a reprimand. She was the lily whitest of the bunch, which really wasn't saying much, but they looked out for each other. "Do you even know _how_ to turn Evans into a centipede?"

            "No," Pythia answered cheerfully as they walked the path that would lead to the common room. "But I was thinking that Severus might help me."

            Narcissa laughed derisively. "Don't count on it, Thia. He's acting stranger and stranger lately."

            Pythia shrugged. "It's probably O.W.L.s. And all the pressure from his parents, especially his mother. That woman won't accept anything less than 'Outstanding.' I'd feel sorry for him, but I've got a full plate myself."

            "With what?" Narcissa demanded dubiously.

            Pythia cast a quick glance at her as they neared the staircase that led to the dungeons. "Never mind." They passed the Potions classroom, where they were going after the quick break, and Professor Elix's office. Professor Elix, a small witch with shrewish features, was sitting at her desk, grading essays.

            They made it through to the common room where everyone else had already gathered. Lucius lay on the couch, head craned back on the arm with his eyes closed. If it had been any other person, Pythia would have said that he was sprawled out on the sofa. But Lucius did not sprawl. He lounged. Rudolphus and Bellatrix were in front of the dormant fireplace, tormenting the cat of a first year girl while she watched horrorstruck. The kid had no doubt annoyed them deeply. Pythia almost felt sorry for her, but she didn't do anything to stop them – the girl might as well learn her lessons early. Evan and Nero were continuing with their game of wizard's chess that they'd started the night before while Janus made last minute touches on his Astronomy homework. Severus still had his nose in that damned book.

            "Isn't this a picture?" Narcissa said sarcastically. Lucius opened one gray eye.

            "Something wrong, Narcissa?"

            Narcissa rolled her eyes on her way to the girls' dorms. Pythia dropped down onto the floor next to Lucius, eyeing Severus. "You get a diagnosis?"

            Lucius closed his eyes again. "Later," he said softly.

            "You're not going to Arithmancy today, are you?"

            "No."

            "And you wonder why your father has a belt in his hand every time you step off the train," Pythia commented exasperatedly.

            Lucius rolled his head over to gaze at her. She visibly recoiled. "Sorry."

            Narcissa came striding into the common room, having swapped her History of Magic notes for her Potions homework. "I'm ready to go."

            Nero looked up from an impressive checkmate. "Narcissa, sit down, and _breeeathe_."

            Narcissa flopped down into the chair beside Severus, who merely turned the page. "Severus, would you know how to turn someone into a centipede?" she asked all of a sudden.

            Severus lifted his head from the book and stared at her with those black eyes. He didn't say anything for a while. Everyone was staring at Narcissa, though not as intensely as Severus, except for Pythia, who was chuckling quietly to herself. Finally, he answered her. "I might. Why?"

            Narcissa glanced over at Pythia. "Well, Thia wants to turn Evans into one."

            Severus looked over at Pythia. "I realize that she's our Vow, but there has to be more. Why?"

            Pythia bit her lip coyly as the excitement rose through her chest again. "So I can trip her and break all her legs," she replied, voice delighted again.

            Lucius started laughing while everyone else exchanged amused glances. "I bet she gets that gleam in her eye every time she says it," he chuckled. "Wish I'd thought of it." Pythia couldn't help but blush. It was probably the greatest compliment that Lucius Malfoy could give.

            Bellatrix let go of the cat's tail as it scurried to and embedded its claws in the leg of the first year to whom it belonged. "I never knew, what have you got against Evans in the first place?" she asked.

            "She's just so-" Pythia looked at her watch distractedly and stood up. "Gods, it's late. We should probably head to class . . . I'll tell you at lunch, Bella. Bye, guys."


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

                After the second class of the day, everyone met in the Great Hall for lunch. Well, almost everyone. Pythia decided to go back to the common room instead, to catch Lucius before he went to lunch. The Malfoy heir was very fond of entrances and always waited until he thought that hardly anyone would be coming in after him to make his appearance. She found him asleep where he'd been during the break, looking like some blond angel on earth. Pythia had to roll her eyes. Lucius, an angel? Not a chance.

                "You been asleep all this time?" she inquired, perching on the opposite arm of the couch.

                "No," came the terse reply. "Why aren't you at lunch?" When he opened his eyes after the lack of response to find Pythia intently nibbling on a fingernail, he smirked. "You're trying to avoid answering Bella's question."

                She scowled at him. "I am not."

                Lucius rolled his eyes and sat up. "Of course you are. You hate Evans because she's been bad-mouthing your father and his crusade for pureblood domination. And if you say so, then everyone will know that he's your father."

                Pythia crossed her arms and frowned, staring at the floor tetchily. Lucius slid over to her and kissed her cheek. "Make something up, Thia. It wouldn't be the first time." He stood up effortlessly, as though pulled by strings. He extended his arm, offering her his hand, which she stared at hesitantly for a moment before taking it.

                "I wouldn't know what to say," she answered sullenly, letting him help her to her feet. She sighed and took her hand back, deciding to change the topic of conversation. "So what's wrong with Severus?" she asked as they walked out of the common room.

                Lucius eyed her reproachfully before answering. "His parents want to send him to Belgium this summer. Apparently, the change of scenery is supposed to improve his attitude."

                "Oh," she said softly. Severus's parents were always trying to "improve his attitude." They thought he should be more outgoing and less reclusive. They at least thought that he should wash his hair.

                When the two reached the Great Hall, Severus was waiting outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face. "You certainly dallied long enough," he snapped. "I want to talk with Thia."

                Lucius's face reflected the puzzlement of Pythia's before he nodded and continued on into the Hall. Pythia raised her eyebrows expectantly at Severus. "Yes?"

                "You want me to help you turn Evans into a centipede," he said frankly.

                Pythia nodded. "You want something in return."

                Severus nodded. "I wish to make your father's acquaintance."

                Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know who my father is."

                "Of course I do. I've known for months."

                Pythia's stomach gave a small lurch, and she highly doubted that it was from hunger. "How?" she asked. Her throat felt dry, and she desperately wanted a shot of something to allay her frayed nerves.

                "Lucius told me in December in response to my inquery about the injuries you sustained when you returned from Christmas break."

                Her jaw went slack and her mouth fell open. "Lucius?" she choked out.

                Severus looked bored and not in the least bit concerned at the fury raging on Pythia's face. He brandished his wand and after quickly muttering "_sedo_," she could think again. Calming charms always worked well on her, and it certainly wasn't the first time one had been needed.

                "You haven't told anyone, have you?" Gods, please, let him not have said anything. Severus gave her a look of such resentment that she regretted asking. Of course, he hadn't said anything. "Fine. I'll ask," she replied curtly. "If he says no, that's it. I don't beg and I don't barter with my father."

                Severus watched her with glittering black eyes for a moment. Finally, he nodded. Without saying a word, he walked away from her in the direction of the dungeons. She stared after him curiously, a frown settling on her face, before going into the Great Hall.

                "You look somber," Rudolphus commented.

                Pythia shrugged and sat down beside Lucius. "What have I missed?"

                Narcissa pointed to her sister. Bellatrix was working intensely on fashioning a small, human-shaped figure from Valerian root and rue. Bella was exceptionally skilled at crafting poppets and constructed one every week for the Vow. It cut in half the likelihood of being blamed for something bad that happened to the person.

                The entire student body shuffled nervously around during the weekends, because everyone knew that the Slytherin gang chose a victim for the week on Monday. Aside from the occasional curse, the string of vicious high jinks throughout the week could be easily disguised as a quick run of bad luck, so no one was quite sure whether or not it was the band of misfits or misfortune. Students were inclined to avoid ill-fated people, so it was amusing to watch the Vow shunned for a period of time.

                "Where's Evans' hair?"

                Lucius withdrew a beautiful penknife from his robes and placed it on the table, as well as a small vial of red liquid. "It wasn't her hair we took," he informed her indifferently.

                Oh. "How'd you get her blood?" Pythia amended.

                Bellatrix smiled wickedly, entwining the herbs. "Janus and I knocked her out with a sleeping draught that Severus concocted. Lucius did a little impressive carving – in an unnoticed place, of course - and _voilà_!" As an afterthought, she added, "She was _very_ late to Herbology." Interesting, Pythia thought to herself. At least it was more inventive than hacking off her hair in class.

                "I wish you'd have told me," she answered darkly. "I'd have wanted to be there to see it, if not be the one to actually cut her up."

                Lucius looked annoyed. "You get to break her legs later this week, Thia. I want to have some fun of my own."

                "Why don't you just rape her?" Pythia hissed back. Lucius's eyes widened, but not in shock. It was as though he were actually thinking of doing it. Pythia certainly wouldn't have put it past him. Lucius put on a good show, acting calm and cool and dignified, but he could be violent and _was_ when he wanted to be. It wasn't often, but it happened. "Lucius," she warned, voice menacingly even, "no. That's too far."

                "You're gonna kill her one of these days, Thia, and we all know it, so don't tell _me_ what I can and cannot do." There was something in his tone that Pythia rarely heard directed at her but knew well enough to fear. Violence. He was offering her violence, and she didn't want it. She backed down. Lucius was one of the few people whose threats Pythia took seriously. He had hit her before when he'd gotten mad enough and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. She swallowed and nodded submissively.

                "You're right. I apologize. I'm being a hypocrite." She hesitated. "No details, please."

                Lucius gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to do it, Thia. Gods, sometimes I swear you actually have a heart."

                Pythia scowled and stabbed a fork at her salad. She didn't feel hungry today, and she was furious with Lucius for revealing to Severus her father's identity. She wanted to bring it up when they were alone sometime in the evening, but she was apprehensive about broaching the subject when Lucius was so obviously ready to lash out at the next quarrel. But still, she had to find some time to talk to him.

                Lucius's father, Cassius, had gone to Hogwarts with Pythia's father, so the Malfoy family already knew and was already allied with "Lord Voldemort." This was before he had changed his name from Tom Riddle, of course. Before he'd gone from good to bad to worse.

                "Sickle for your thoughts," Narcissa interrupted Pythia's musings.

                Pythia abandoned her lunch and dropped her chin into her palm. "I don't want to go to Transfiguration. I hate McGonagall."

                Evan grinned. "I'll let you in on a secret, Thia: we _all _hate her."

                Pythia narrowed her eyes and stared at him until he looked slightly disheartened, but the grin didn't fade.

                Bellatrix reached across the table and took the vial of blood from Lucius. Then she rummaged through her bag for a small, polished wooden box. She extracted a thin black-handled paintbrush and opened the vial. Pythia followed the movement of the brush closely as it left crimson stains on the poppet. It was like watching any other master at his or her craft – whatever the métier, the expertise the person displayed was so complete that it was nearly impossible to take your eyes away.

                Finally, Bellatrix placed the poppet carefully into the box and tucked it back into her book bag. She caught Pythia's gaze and grinned wickedly. Pythia gave a smile that all of them had given to each other at some point, a small, private smile that acknowledged and understood the other's intentions. "You look too pensive."

                Pythia smiled wider. "Probably. I'm tired."

                "You could skip class," Janus suggested.

                "And besmirch her perfect record?" Rudolphus answered in Pythia's place. "She'd never do it."

                "Thank you, Dolph," she sneered sarcastically.

                Lucius pulled out his antique pocket watch and checked the time. He only did this when his patience was beginning to thin. Everyone knew what it meant, and they began to scatter, packing up to leave for class. All but Narcissa, who stood her ground and remained seated, still eating. She was the only one of the group who rarely let Lucius intimidate her. It was an impressive trait, but probably her most foolish.

                "We should steal her homework," Nero suggested as the six of them slowly walked down the corridor, none of them in a hurry to arrive at the next lesson.

                "That's not a bad idea," Evan said, who had a penchant for thievery.

                Pythia didn't care. After upsetting Lucius, fretting over what to tell Bella – who seemed, thankfully, to have forgotten her question – and paying Severus's price, what to do to Lily Evans seemed to have made itself last in Pythia's plethora of worries.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

            Pythia slipped into the restroom on the way back from Transfiguration, telling Narcissa to go ahead. She waited about ten minutes before going to the common room. She dropped down onto the couch and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, wincing when a dull pain reminded her of her black eye.

            "You ought to put something on that," Severus's voice suggested dispassionately from a chair on the other side of the fireplace.

            Pythia opened her eyes and glared at him. The same book that he'd been reading all day was in his lap yet again. "What are you doing here?"

            "I'm forgoing dinner tonight," he replied indifferently, flipping the page.

            Pythia frowned and positioned herself so that she could look at him while the couch arm supported her head. "Well, that's odd. You usually love brooding glacially around all of us."

            Severus glared at her as the rest of his face contorted into a particularly vicious scowl. Apparently, this business about being sent to Belgium was bothering him more than Pythia had thought. But if she brought it up, then Severus would be angry with Lucius – which was never a good thing – and he'd completely shut down.

            "So, how _does_ one go about turning a person into a centipede?" she asked, opting for a change of topics. "We haven't exactly covered that in Transfiguration."

            "I haven't decided," Severus murmured offhandedly. "And I think the better question would be: how does one _trip_ a centipede?" He lifted his eyes from the page to meet Pythia's gaze.

            Pythia opened her mouth to reply, but found that she had no answer. How _did_ one trip a centipede? It would have to be awfully difficult, since a centipede had all those other legs to support it. She tried to think up any possible method, but nothing came to mind. "So we won't trip her," she finally said, shrugging. "We can just break her legs." An idea came to her. "Then we can pull them off."

            Severus made a noncommittal sound. Pythia sighed. She was getting nowhere. She watched him read for several moments before deciding to do something much more constructive. She slid off the sofa and strode up to the girls' dormitories, stretching out on the bed with a specially-charmed piece of parchment, a quill, and a book upon which to bear down. Rolling the quill between her fingers, Pythia pondered how to start the letter, eventually deciding to dive in. After five drafts, she finally settled with the wording.

_            Father,_

_                        I seldom ask for favors, and I'm prepared to accept whatever your terms are. As payment for help with a problem of mine – please, don't make me elaborate, I know that you would be disappointed – I agreed with Severus Snape to present to you his request for a meeting. I have no knowledge of his intentions, though I highly doubt that they are to bear insult. Please reply before the week is done._

                        Pythia 

            As she signed her name and began writing the cover letter, Pythia pondered a role among her fellow Slytherins as a person with valuable connections. In a couple years time, her father could even be considered the highest connection there was for wizards like herself, and that could certainly find her in a powerful position once she graduated. But alas, it would never be, for she'd sworn oath upon oath upon oath before first arriving at Hogwarts that she would never reveal her paternal lineage.

            "Thia."

            Pythia looked up at Nero in the doorway as Bellatrix and Narcissa both slinked into the four year girls' dormitory. Boys were blocked by magic from entering the girls' dorms, but girls could come into the boys'. Narcissa walked over and perched on the foot of her bed, pushing the drapes to one side so that she could see the room, while her sister crawled onto Pythia's bed, lounging uninvited against the headboard.

            "Lucius wants to talk to you," Bella informed Pythia. She looked up at Nero. "We told you we'd tell her."

            Nero rolled his eyes. "Well, Lucius told me to tell her, even after you offered."

            "And you always do what Lucius tells you to do?" Narcissa interjected amusedly.

            Pythia folded the letter and slipped it into her robes, rising from the bed. "Narcissa, we _all_ do what Lucius tells us to do. Not doing that would be bad for your health."

            Narcissa sighed exasperatedly, resigning herself to the fact that the lot of them would never see reason. Didn't they realize that Lucius had this much power over them only because they let him?

            Pythia crossed to Nero, offering him her hand. "Take me to our leader."

            Nero led her up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory, which Lucius shared with Rudolphus, Evan, and two dimwitted, thickset boys by the names of Crabbe and Goyle. The room was oddly empty except for Lucius, who was lounging on his bed with a book open beside him. A book that he was clearly not reading. When Pythia stepped into the room, he sat up and indicated to Nero that he should leave.

            "Wait," Pythia said as Nero turned to go. She took the letter to her father out of her robes and gave it to him. "Use Lucius's owl to send this. She'll know where to go."

            Nero winked at Pythia and left her to face Lucius alone.

            "What did Severus have to say this afternoon?" he demanded.

            "What, no 'we missed you at dinner, Thia?' Honestly, Lucius, I'm hurt."

            "Pythia . . . " His tone was warning enough.

            Pythia strode across the room and settled herself at the foot of his bed. "He offered to help me with my plans with Evans in return for a meeting with my father. I told him I'd try as best I could, but I wasn't promising anything."

            "I suppose you're angry with me for telling him." Lucius didn't sound in the least bit as concerned as Pythia thought he should have. But there was nothing she could do about it, so she merely nodded. "Well, don't be. If anyone is trustworthy enough with a secret of this magnitude, it is Severus." He flashed her one of his most winning smiles, and, reluctantly, she melted to his charm.

            "Well," she replied, trying to keep some air of indignation about her as she crawled across the bed to him, "you've proven that it certainly isn't you."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Letters from Pythia's father tended to arrive quickly after being sent, and at the most inopportune times – like now, during Astronomy.

Late Tuesday night, Lucius Malfoy's spotted owl, Alecto, swooped down and perched atop Pythia's telescope. Pythia withdrew her vision from the cosmos and fixed it upon the indignant bird. "You've got bad timing," she muttered, trying to furtively untie the letter from Alecto's leg. The creature simply waited, taking off in a blur of feathers once the epistle was in Pythia's hand.

These letters had a nasty habit of disappearing if not read immediately, so Pythia nudged Narcissa, who was staring fixedly at the stars. The blonde tore her gaze from the heavens to glare at her friend. Pythia flashed her the letter. Narcissa rolled her eyes and left to distract Professor Ether while Pythia swiftly opened the letter.

The cover message had obviously been written by Igor – no one else would have insisted so adamantly that borrowing a book would be too much of an inconvenience. Using the charm that her father had concocted, the words faded and new, more intricate writing flourished onto the parchment.

_ Caution has always served me well, and the oldest lesson you've learned is that trust is for fools and innocents. I will meet this Severus Snape of yours, however, for it is your generation that will help me to build and to maintain my empire. Though for your own welfare, I suggest you find out his intentions and relay them to me._

No salutation, no signature. Not uncommon for Voldemort. Well, Pythia thought, that was that. She folded the letter neatly and slipped it into her robes. Narcissa was still talking with Professor Ether, but something told Pythia that the diversion had quickly evolved into an actual conversation. Pythia shook her head and rolled her eyes as she went back to stargazing.

Severus's black eyes shifted from the letter to Pythia to Lucius. "Well," he finally said, "that's that."

The three of them sat in the empty common room while the fire dimmed. All the other fourth years had gone up to bed after the Astronomy lesson.

"And no one knows about this," Pythia instructed. "All right, _Lucius_?"

Lucius turned his eyes to her, trying to bleed as much malice into them as he could, but Pythia refused to back down this time. So long as Lucius wasn't in a bad mood beforehand, Pythia was dominant in matters concerning her father. Finally, the expression faded from threatening to sullen.

"Then I'll get started on the Evans project," Severus cut in, rising to his feet.

Pythia grinned inwardly. Now Lily Evans was a project. This was certainly a treat. They so seldom got to turn a Vow into a project. A project could last anywhere from the current week to two and a half months – it depended on how long it took before the Slytherin octet got bored. Pythia was positive that she would never get bored with tormenting Evans.

Severus disappeared into the corridor that led to the dorms, while Pythia reclined languidly against the sofa arm. Lucius turned cold eyes to her.

"Never do that again, Pythia." Pythia opened her mouth to protest, but he cut in. "I don't care if it was only Severus. Don't ever chastise me in front of someone." He stood with all the gracefulness of a feline and cleared his throat softly. "Good night."

Pythia frowned as he took the same route that Severus had. Well, she thought, if no one else was staying up, there was no point for _her_ to do so. Taking a moment to close the fire screen, she went up to bed.

She woke about two hours later to a hushed voice cursing in the common room. Crawling out of bed, she donned a cobalt robe before padding quietly out of the dormitory. The dorms branched off from the common room, boys' to the left and girls' to the right. The corridor walls were lined with dimming torches that would be rekindled in the morning before anyone woke, and an emerald green runner traveled the length of the floor. Each of the girls' dormitories was on the same level, but the boys' fifth, sixth, and seventh years had their own niche above the others.

The witching hour was drafty enough as it was, but living in the dungeons made it nearly intolerable. It was times like these when Pythia cursed being in Slytherin. Pulling the robe more tightly around her, she entered into the common room. A dark and lanky figure was rummaging through the bookshelf that was hidden securely behind the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. All Slytherin students would visit this bookshelf at least once before leaving Hogwarts – it was a compilation of all of Slytherin's studies that he'd left for all pureblood Slytherins who would come after.

"Gods, Severus, what are you doing that can't wait till the sun's up?"

Severus stopped his search and turned to scowl at her. "I decided to begin early."

Pythia frowned at him. "Well," she said, sounding confused even to her own ears, "keep it quiet. I have to get up early to finish my Charms essay." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed back to bed.

It was Wednesday. Classes were over for the day, the sun was warm, and Slytherin was practicing Quidditch, even though the season had ended for them. Now Gryffindor played against Ravenclaw at the end of the month and Quidditch would be over for the year.

Pythia lounged in the spectators' seats with Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Evan. Severus was in the library and the other four – Lucius, Nero, Rudolphus, and Janus – were with the rest of the team.

"I don't think I've ever seen Lucius as laid back as when he plays Quidditch," Evan commented, watching the players.

"That's because the Snitch flies right into his hand," Bellatrix muttered. "Just like everything else."

Pythia was hardly paying attention to them. She, instead, was watching the group that was just now trudging onto the Quidditch pitch, dressed in scarlet and gold robes. "Oh, gods," Narcissa breathed, "now what?"

There was a confrontation between the two Houses, but the four spectators remained in the stands. Lucius and the others could handle themselves. Evan held his hand out to the three girls. "Five Galleons says that 'Gryffin-whore' gets the pitch."

"Of course they'll get the pitch," Narcissa answered, observing the two teams darkly. "Any professor will see it their way. We're done for the season. We don't actually need it."

"Oh, yes, we do, for next year," Pythia replied. "Gryffindor handed us our arses on a platter the last time we went against them. If anyone _doesn_'_t_ need the practice, it's _them_."

"Them, with that _Potter_," a cold voice seethed. The quartet turned their heads to see Severus making his way up to them. He carried a single book in his hands, which was unusual, for he usually carried at least three simultaneously. Following behind him was an irate Rudolphus. He threw his broom down, where it snapped in the center.

"Damn Gryffin-whores taking over our Quidditch pitch," he grumbled. The others, however, were staring at the broom.

"Dolph, Lucius bought that for you," Evan said, in shock by the sight of the broken besom.

"I don't care," Rudolphus snarled. "We've got to kill them next year."

Pythia yawned, watching Lucius down on the pitch. He leaned casually on his broom, listening to James Potter and Nero argue. Finally, he gave a graceful shrug and walked out of the stadium, broom in hand.

Pythia and the others scrambled – except for Severus, who took his time – for the exit.

"Well?" Bellatrix demanded as they met with Lucius outside the field.

"'Well,' what?" Lucius replied dispassionately.

"What did the Gryffindors have to say?"

Lucius shrugged, turned and headed back toward the school. Pythia frowned, and made to follow him, but a cold hand with slender fingers closed around her wrist. Pythia met Severus's eyes.

"Go on up," he said to the other six. "There's something I want to show Thia."

A look passed between the others, but they followed Severus's instruction. Pythia crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. "What is it?" she demanded.

He held up the book in his hand. It was thick, with a blackish-green binding and an argent snake engraved on the front cover. Even from three feet away, she could smell the musty scent that all old books carried. "Wait until you see what's in here."


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

            "These are love letters."

            Severus and Pythia had retreated to an isolated corner of the library where they wouldn't be disturbed. Pythia was curled up in the window frame, reading carefully through the compilation of pages browned with time, the scent of aged ink drifting from each leaf.

            "There are hundreds of them."

            Pythia turned a page. "From both of them. Listen to this – it's a very short one – dated late July 1943: 'Dearest Ophelia, I realize that I promised you a visit this summer, but I'm afraid that it's impossible now. I've gotten myself into a bit of a bind here, but I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. My love, T.M.R.'" She frowned. "T.M.R. 1943 – he'd have been seventeen."

            Severus raised an eyebrow languidly. "So what?"

            She rolled her eyes, hissing her reply so that no one would hear, "He began using the name Voldemort when he was sixteen."

            "Ah," Severus replied, quite obviously unmoved by the knowledge.

            Pythia rolled her eyes and skipped ahead a few pages. "'Tom, I'm afraid that my parents know what we're up to. If they try, I know that they'll succeed in stopping the wedding. What are we going to do?' And his reply: 'Just wait, my love, there is no worth to the achievement of a goal where there are no obstacles to conquer. Be patient. My love, T.M.R.'"

            Severus extracted a Sickle from his robes and began rolling it over his knuckles. "I believe, Pythia, that you are the only of our group whose parents do not have a marriage of convenience," he commented, stopping the coin and taking the book from her, eyes passing over the words without reading them.

            "Cassius and Theodora are happy. Or at least seem so," Pythia replied, standing, snapping the tome shut while Severus held it, seizing the book from him and placing it in her bag. She began moving from the niche as Severus followed behind.

            "Anyone can seem happy, Thia, even me."

            Pythia paused in her gait, glancing back at him, puzzled, before moving again. "But you don't, Severus, so I'll believe it when I see it. But until then, by all means, please continue being as thoroughly unpleasant as you can be."

            Severus followed closely on her heels. "Are you being sarcastic?"

            Pythia paused again just before the dungeon staircase, pushing the strap of her book bag higher on her shoulder.  "No," she answered solemnly. "If you weren't the way you are, you wouldn't be our friend. If you were all of a sudden good-natured, instead of dark and brooding, we wouldn't know what to do with you. We don't want you different, Severus, so don't be." The not-so-happy pep talk had taken a lot of sentiment that Pythia didn't possess. Yes, everything that she had said was true, but saying it aloud felt terrible saccharine. She turned on her heel and advanced yet again toward the common room.

            They both reached the entrance to the common room, but before she gave the password, Pythia whirled around. "Don't tell Lucius about the book. I want to know what I'm dealing with before I bring him – _or_ my father – into it."

            Severus frowned, something dark and knowing behind his gaze. "What really happened to your eye?" he finally asked.

            Pythia started before scowling. "Nothing that concerns you, Severus," she snarled, speaking the password and stalking into the Slytherin corner of Hogwarts.

            Thursday, after the first class of the morning, the gang of Slytherins – excluding Evan, who was taking a test in Transfiguration after ducking it for three days in a row; and Janus, who was serving morning detention for a badly-timed hex – was loafing about in the courtyard, where many other students were getting on with various activities, most prominently of which was completing homework assignments.

            "We need Evan for this," Nero announced. "He's the bloody kleptomaniac."

            "You're only whining because we drew lots, and you lost," Bella sneered. "Everyone else needs to get into position."

            "This is not fair," Nero muttered, stalking across the courtyard to where Lily Evans sat by herself.

            "The poor boy," Narcissa jeered, rising to her feet. "Coming, Lucius?"

            Lucius brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "No, Narcissa, I don't think I am. The three of us have something infinitely more important to do."

            Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed, passing between Lucius, Pythia, and Severus. "What the hell is going on with you all? What's with the sudden secrecy?" Lucius raised a graceful eyebrow, eyes piercing, letting Narcissa know that he would not deign to answer her questions. She scoffed exasperatedly and turned on her heel. "Come on, Dolph, let's leave the ménage à trois alone."

            As the two stalked off, Lucius turn his icy gaze back to his inamorata and the boy who was, quite arguably, his best friend. "Narcissa's got the right questions, but she shouldn't be asking me. What the hell is going on with you two?" He looked at Severus intently. "You aren't fucking her, are you?"

            Severus's eyes widened a touch. "Do you think I have a death wish, Lucius?"

            Lucius's lip twitched, as though he were trying to keep it from curling. He passed his eyes to Pythia. "And you?"

            Pythia glanced away. "It's none of your bloody business, Lucius. If it were, I'd tell you."

            Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but seemed not to have a thing to say. He took his gaze from the two of them to Evans, who remained unassuming and engrossed in her homework. "Tell me how that turns out," he remarked offhandedly, rising and strutting away.

            When he was out of sight, Pythia began fuming. "I can't believe he thinks we're . . . you know."

            "He doesn't," Severus said shortly, face gone consumed in a neutral expression. "He's just trying to get a rise out of us, for whatever purpose it's supposed to serve."

            Pythia frowned, still not quite understanding. What agenda could Lucius have? "Did I give him what he wanted?" she asked naïvely, meeting his eyes.

            Severus shrugged. "Probably."

            Pythia scowled and looked away, watching as Lily Evans followed Nero as he kept her parchment just out of reach, reading her essay aloud while walking around the courtyard, leading her away from her book bag. Meanwhile, Bella poured a tin full of molasses into it after removing all of the contents in it as Rudolphus dropped in a couple of Evans' spell books. Narcissa was cutting the handle just enough that it held by a thread, so it would break under even the slightest weight.

            "I apologize for yesterday."

            Pythia glanced up at Severus, distracted. "What?"

            "I said, I apologize for yesterday. I overstepped my bounds, and I'm sorry."

            Pythia grinned as she saw Rudolphus empty Evans' ink into her bag and place his black widow into it. Common knowledge was Lily Evan's fear of arachnids. Oh, this was going to be good.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Lily Evans was in the hospital wing, being treated for hyperventilation. When her book bag had broken from her shoulder, molasses poured out slowly onto the path leading to the menagerie, staining her robes and clinging to her shoes. When she reached Defense Against the Dark Arts after picking up her things, her hands were covered in sticky brown molasses. Potter asked if she wanted any help, but she waved him off furiously. She'd been so mad that she began crying during the professor's lesson, but it wasn't until she opened the inkbottle to take notes and the arachnid came crawling out that she fell into hysterics, whimpering and unable to breath easily. Remus Lupin had been instructed to take her to the infirmary.

Pythia and Narcissa had almost needed to go, as well, for they had gone into near convulsions as they watched Evans through the one-way mirror that Severus carried. During Charms, they had lost Slytherin ten points for disrupting Flitwick's lesson, but no one from their House dared to chide them for the infraction, for their ties to Lucius Malfoy were well-known and feared.

"That was hilarious," Pythia snickered on their way to dinner. When they reached the Great Hall, Lucius waited outside for them. He looked at Narcissa, cocking his head toward the table, then took Pythia's hand and led her into the shadows behind the enormous door. She followed, puzzled until he pushed her against the wall, hard, putting his mouth on hers. She pushed back against the kiss as his hands slid into her robes. When his cold fingers reached the flesh below the hem of her skirt, she gasped and he continued on to her neck. Now that her mouth was unobstructed, she inquired smartly, "Feeling amorous?" as her hands slid into his own robes.

He momentarily pulled away from her throat enough to answer, "Conciliatory."

"Ah," she breathed as his teeth nipped her jaw line. "Sex in the true spirit of armistice. Thus is the Malfoy way."

"Shh," he hissed, kissing her again, tangling his hand tightly in her hair, pulling her head back to kiss her with bruising demand. She bit at his lips, a small moan issuing from his throat.

Lucius liked it rough. Sex was violence, and the more force, the better. His other hand was working deftly at unlacing the ties to her bodice. Pythia dug her fingers into his shoulders, whimpering when he abandoned the cords for her thighs.

"What's going on back here?"

Filch's voice stopped Pythia's heart and she slapped away Lucius's hand. Lucius put his hand over Pythia's mouth, forcing her to crouch on the floor with him as he raised his robes to cover them. The shadows helped to hide them, but with Lucius's robes, it was nearly pitch black. Filch would never see them, and the burning in her lungs told Pythia that he would never hear them, either. The caretaker hobbled away, muttering that he needed some beasta tiger or something to hunt down students. Lucius lowered the fabric and grinned at Pythia.

"Shall we?"

His mouth captured hers once again as his fingers slid again to her thigh. Pythia thought momentarily about protesting before her hands slithered back into his robes . . .

Later that night, Pythia lay on Lucius's left, her body curled toward his, watching him watch her as he lay on his back. Her fingers crept over his, dragging her fingernails lightly across the back of the hand by his side. She smiled a smile that was simply a languid twitch of the right corner of her mouth. The hand she caressed lifted from the sheets and pushed the hair back from the right side of her face, stroking her ear, one of her major erogenous zones. Her voice came out in soft, breathy moans as his eyes narrowed in concentration.

Lucius's personal pleasure was pain, but he was fully aware that Pythia's tastes ran more to the tender, and he sometimes needed to know that he still had control over her. And control meant pleasure as much as it did pain.

So, his fingers worked torturously slowly across the curls of her ear, bringing delighted mews from her throat. She gasped in surprise as he moved to lay over her, turning her face to the pillow to trace her outer ear with his tongue. She made helpless sounds while his fingers played lightly across her skin, teeth nipping at her earlobe, drawing a long, low moan from her. Her knees lifted to cradle his hips between her thighs, but he gave a rolling chuckle and fell onto his back once again. Pythia yelped in surprise, snorting indignantly and turning on her side away from him when she realized what he was doing.

They lay there for several momeninutes, until Pythia was a fraction away from the total oblivion of slumber, before Lucius spoke. "What are you not telling me, Pythia?"

Pythia bit her lip at hearing her full first name. Lucius, who had delighted her for the past hours, was indescribably discontented by her. She could not pretend to be asleep, because he always knew. "Severus thinks that you're hitting me."

"And he wants to rescue you, to play the unlikely hero? The knight in tarnished armor?"

Pythia turned onto her back, swallowing hard. "I guess. I mean, I don't know."

"I do," Lucius replied coolly. "I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. He is completely besotted with you, and you don't know it, do you?"

Pythia's teeth sank softly into the flesh of her lower lip once again. Lucius couldn't be more wrong. She found it very hard to believe indeed that Severus had any feelings toward her that weren't strictly platonic. She was a part of his circle of friends, yes, but in all honesty not very close. She was still a minor annoyance at best.

"And do you want to be rescued?"

Pythia turned her head to find Lucius's gray eyes scrutinizing her. "I like being yours," she answered truthfully.

"But," he continued for her.

She nodded, turning toward him and propping herself up on an elbow. "But belonging to you isn't always going to be enough. Someday I'm going to want more."

Lucius nodded as if he knew this already but wasn't entirely pleased about it. "And how far off is 'someday?'" he asked softly, smiling.

Pythia tried to read his face and concluded that they had forgiven each other. "I'll let you know," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

"The next time you decide to pull an all-nighter, Lucius, use a silencing charm," Evan suggested darkly the next morning at breakfast.

Pythia blushed fiercely, but Lucius merely shrugged. "Won't happen again," he answered smoothly.

"You two get _loud_," Nero, who slept a stone wall away from the sixth year dormitory in the seventh, stated.

Pythia found Narcissa snickering into her napkin across the table, prompting her to stab a couple of pieces of cantaloupe into her mouth before grabbing her book bag and stalking out toward the library. There were still about fifteen minutes left before the first class of the day commenced, and she had a couple of points in an Ancient Runes essay that she needed to confirm.

She had checked three books to clarify one statement and was looking through a fourth when a shadow fell across the table. She glanced up into the pale brown eyes of Remus Lupin.

"That was a horrible thing your friends did."

Pythia's nostrils flared. "As if Potter and Black don't do worse to Severus every day."

The first edge of anger stirred in Lupin's voice. "I don't approve of that, either."

"Then get off your high horse and stop them," Pythia hissed, rising from the chair.

"You think it's that easy."

Pythia put her materials back into her book bag. "I know it's not, Lupin. I'm pretty low on the ladder myself, so if you want them to stop harassing Evans, then I suggest you take it up with Lucius. Good luck with that. Secondly, I don't care if we never stop tormenting Evans, because in case you haven't realized yet, I hate the girl. Either way, little Lily's in for a rough time, so either do something about it or get the hell out of the way."


End file.
